


Unwelcome Touch

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-19 00:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1448734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris/Zevran ficlet from my RP blog, based on this meme: Leave a “Break Me” in my ask and I’ll write an angsty drabble with our characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unwelcome Touch

"Fenris." Zevran says quietly, and he regards the other man with a small frown. The other elf is entrenched in thought, looking off into the middle-distance with his hand loosely grasping the wine Zevran had brought, and cautiously, he reaches out, just to press a gentle finger to the other’s spare hand-

And then there is a hand on his throat and Zevran is held tightly against the wall. He does not yell, and he does not kick, and he does not struggle and scream. He just watches the other man, taking him in in the few moments it takes for him to let Zevran go.

"My apologies."

"No such things are necessary."

"Of  _course_  they are!” Fenris snaps, and he lets out a growl of frustration. “You should not accept this! When someone snaps, when I-“

”It is my decision whether a reaction of mine is necessary or not.” Zevran returns, and he reaches out, catching hold of Fenris’ hand and interlinking their fingers. Fenris moves as if to complain, but Zevran strokes his thumb over the side of the other’s hand, and remains in place. “It is not right for you to blame yourself for instincts that have been instilled in you by a horrible life.”

"I-"

"No, it is my turn to speak now." Fenris shuts his mouth, the tips of his ears flushing pink, and Zevran moves on. "I have similar instincts. I have not slept for more than three hours at a time in what, four years? Even the slightest rustle of paper awakens me."

Fenris presses his lips together, and Zevran pulls the other’s hand to his mouth, dragging his lips over the back of it. The other elf freezes, and so does Zevran; has he traced too closely over the lyrium lines?

But then Fenris relaxes again, and Zevran lets the tension fade from his shoulders. “Are we good?”

"Yes." Fenris murmurs, and Zevran nods.

"Good."


End file.
